The Will To Live

Chapter 1: Flashes of the Past

"Mom! Mom!" A dark-haired boy ran down the corridor of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He was holding a letter in one hand, and breathing as fast as his lung would allow.

Although the boy was very out of breath, he wore a happy expression on his pale face, which was covered with black and purple bruises and several cuts that looked like old wounds. The people who were watching were afraid that he might collapse any moment, for he was extremely skinny for the children with his height and he was pallid, and limped dangerously on his right leg.

The boy stopped at a certain patient's room, trying to catch his breath a little and gather enough energy to knock on the door. "Guess what, Mom? I got the acceptance letter from Hogwarts!"

He raised his hand and knocked. "I've been accepted into Hogwarts, Mom! I will work very hard to become a great wizard. We don't need father anymore." Loathing shone in the boy's crystalline, black eyes when he mentioned his father, but he kept his smile, because he now knew that his mother didn't need to rely on his father anymore now that he had the chance to study in the best wizardry school.

He waited for his mother's answer, but he didn't receive any. Hesitantly, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. His eyes widened in shock when he caught sight of what was inside. He dropped his letter, which was addressed, in beautiful handwriting, to:

Mr. Severus Snape,

The sidewalk of Knockturn Alley

But he didn't care for it anymore. He opened his mouth, trying to form sounds, but his throat tightened and air wouldn't come out. The smile was replaced by a look of horror, as he kept staring at his mother, but his mother didn't stare back. . .

Snape's eyes snapped open. Sweat covered his entire body. He sat up, breathing deeply as he looked around wildly like an animal that was lost. After figuring out that he was still in his cold and dark dungeon, he released a sigh and murmured a curse, angry at himself for losing grip on his emotions.

Sleep had become an ordeal for Snape. He had grown to fear dreams, and when he couldn't fight the drowsiness anymore, usually past midnight, he would be visited again by his past. These nightmares haunted him more often now that he was back to his job of spying on the Dark Lord. As determined as he was to rid himself of his emotions, he almost drowned, after every mission and every meeting of the Death Eaters, in the fear of being caught in his disloyalty by the Dark Lord. He had tried to take the Dreamless Sleep potion before, but it had proved to be ineffective.

Staring at the wall, he remembered that today was the first day of school, which meant that today was the day when his torment would start again for another school year. He didn't particularly like teaching; in fact, he hated his job. He felt horrible every time when he had to stand in front of a class teaching. It would have been better if he were to teach something that he loved, like Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he knew the Headmaster would never allow it, for a reason that they both knew well. He took a last deep breath before getting out of his bed.

After quickly showering and changing into his regular black robes, he stared blankly at his reflection as he combed his hair, which stayed greasy no matter how hard he washed it. After many tries when he was young, he had stopped caring about it since he could do nothing to change it.

Once fully dressed, he walked swiftly to the Great Hall, where meals were held. He knew he would be late for breakfast, but he didn't care much after the nightmares that he'd had. All eyes turned to him as he entered the Hall; some frightened (the lower year students), some loathing (mostly Gryffindors), and some admiring (his own students, of course, in Slytherin house), but he took no notice of them at all as his robes swept through the passage between the Gryffindor table and the Slytherin's.

He grunted slightly as his glances fell onto a particular teacher at the teacher's table. A pale man ragged clothes was sitting three seats away to the Headmaster's left. His hair was grayish, and he looked hairier than most people. He was, of course, Remus Lupin. Soon after the Ministry banned the law that forbade people from hiring werewolves, Dumbledore had managed to convince the students' parents that Lupin was not dangerous. He took all responsibilities upon himself if anything wrong. In Snape's opinion, Dumbledore was wasting his time and energy on that werewolf, considering the fact that he almost killed Snape years ago. However, Snape didn't voice his opinion this time, because he was fully aware that it was the Headmaster's nature to help others who were in need. He himself, for example, was one of the people whom Dumbledore had wasted energy on.

Snape nodded to the Headmaster before he took a seat. Because he had no choice, since all the other seats were full, he sat down between the Deputy Headmistress and the rehired Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Dumbledore, who wore red and black robes with a matching hat on his head, smiled warmly in return. McGonagall also smiled, and asked kind-heartedly, "Severus. How are you this morning?"

"Horrible," Snape answered shortly without looking at the Professor of Transfiguration as he took a sip of black coffee, taking no interest in the other food on the table.

McGonagall shook her head and asked sharply, "Must you behave this way every time I try to converse with you?" Her voice was low enough that she didn't draw much attention from the students.

Snape rolled his eyes. "I don't recall that I have ever wished to converse with you."

The Headmaster looked over and asked cheerfully, before McGonagall could say anything back, "Did you have insomnia again last night, Severus?"

The Potion Master stared at his coffee for a moment, clearly lost in his own thoughts, as he made no answer to Dumbledore. Flashes of his childhood appeared again and again in his head, even though he tried hard to get rid of them. He buried his head in his hands as it started to throb painfully. Lupin, who had stopped wolfing down the food, looked at Snape with concern. "Snape? Are you feeling all right?"

McGonagall called, "Severus?" as she placed her hand on his shoulder. Snape bolted up from his chair at the touch as if he was trying to dodge an attack. He stepped backward, his right leg hitting the chair a little, as he tried to understand what had happened. Foggy imaginings disappeared and he realized that many questioning looks from the students and teachers were being cast upon him.

The Headmaster immediately rose and asked, a worried tone in his gentle voice, "Severus?" He was about to walk toward Snape, even though he knew he wouldn't receive an answer, but Snape quickly strode toward the entrance of the Great Hall, away from the uncomfortable atmosphere.

"I will go see how Severus is doing," Dumbledore whispered to McGonagall and walked briskly after the Potion Master.

McGonagall spoke up after the Headmaster was gone. "We should all continue with breakfast." She was very effective at gathering attentions away from the door. The students and teachers went back to their food, although they still wondered about Snape's strange behavior.

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It took a while for Dumbledore to catch up to Snape, who was heading toward his dungeon without noticing that someone was behind him.

"Severus!"

Snape stopped when he heard the Headmaster's voice, and turned around.

The older wizard asked, "What happened back there, Severus?"

He stepped closer to look at Snape. "I will go with you to see Poppy," he said, so firmly that the offer sounded almost like an order. Dumbledore obviously thought that it was necessary to have an outside opinion on Snape's health.

"I am fine, Headmaster. I just want to be alone for a while before I have to go to class." It was unusual for Snape to call Dumbledore by his formal title when there were no students around. His voice showed a hint of his tiredness.

Dumbledore said softly, "But you have hardly eaten any food, my boy. It's not good for your body. Why don't I go and get you something to eat?" He knew Snape would by far prefer to eat in his dungeon.

The dark-haired man shook his head. "No, I am not hungry. You shouldn't worry yourself over me, Headmaster. You have enough concerns already. If you will excuse me. . . " He turned his back on Dumbledore, signaling that he didn't want to be bothered anymore, and resumed his pace to the dungeon.

Dumbledore asked after him, "Why is it that you still can't trust me?"

Snape froze, frowned at the question and whispered guiltily because he knew Dumbledore was right, "I trust you. . ."

"No," the wise wizard disagreed. He wasn't using an accusing tone, but, rather, a sad one. "You don't trust me with your feelings."

There was a long silence, before Snape said, "I am sorry." He walked to the door to his rooms and went inside. Dumbledore sighed, but before he turned around, he heard Snape say, "Albus. I am going to a meeting tonight." Then, the door was closed.

Dumbledore knew what meeting Snape meant. It was one of the Death Eaters' meetings again. He looked at the closed door before he walked away. With all his heart, he regretted that he was failing Snape. . . that he was letting Snape endanger his life by spying on Voldemort.

End of Chapter 1

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Chapter 2: N.E.W.T. Potions Class

Snape released a sigh from his chest as Dumbledore's footsteps faded away. He didn't mean to be rude to the Headmaster, but he didn't want him to worry too much.

Albus is only pretending, he told himself.

He pretends to be worried about me because I am the only Potions teacher he can find and because I spy for him. He knew it was true, but part of him said otherwise. Somehow, a small part of his mind believed that Albus did really care about him. . .

Don't be absurd! He scolded himself mentally as he went to his desk where the Pensieve was sitting. As he looked into its swirling, silver-white contents, he wondered whether or not he should store some of his more painful memories inside.

He shook his head and gave a quick laugh. Just when has my life ever not been painful? If I do store all the memories that haunt me, I would have to store my entire mind.

Feeling very tired, Snape took off his robes and took a quick nap before he had to go to class. If more images from the past appeared again while his mind was more vulnerable due to sleep, he didn't have the energy to care.

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Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked down the hall that led to the dungeons. This place was just as they remembered. It was cold and didn't have much light. None of them particularly liked Potions class, but they knew that N.E.W.T. Potions class was very useful in many ways.

"Double Potions! Can you believe that we're stuck with Snape for this long on our first day of school?" said Ron, holding the old and well-used textbooks that he'd gotten from his older twin brothers. It was very lucky for him that this year they still used the same book and the same edition.

Harry said in a sarcastic tone, "Yeah. . . how lucky. . ." Although he was happy to be back in school again, he also hated to be with Snape. His hatred toward the Potions Master had not decreased a bit, even though Dumbledore had tried to explain Snape's actions to him. Harry just couldn't see any excuse for Snape treating him so badly.

Hermione's long curly hair swung from side to side as she walked. She heard them complain again and couldn't take anymore. Turning around, she said sharply, "You two chose to take Potions class yourselves, so stop complaining."

"But I didn't choose the Potions teacher!" Ron rebutted quickly.

"Even if we get to choose, I don't think there are any other Potions teachers to choose from. There aren't many wizards or witches who know much about Potions and can make them well. Those who are really good at it would prefer to get a better job than teaching, anyway. In fact, I believe Snape is the only Master of Potions who is willing to teach," Hermione explained as the three entered the classroom.

Since N.E.W.T classes were very selective, instead of two houses of students at a time, all students who could achieve high scores in the O.W.L were joined together in the same class. Harry quickly glanced over the room. He recognized most of the people in the class. There were Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil from his house. He was not surprised to see Malfoy in here, but was a little to see Crabbe and Goyle. Yet, the most surprising person in the class was. . .

"Neville! Why are you taking this class? I though you don't even like Snape!" Ron's voice interrupted Harry's thoughts; he was as surprised as Harry. Hermione was also looking at Neville as if he had blown up another potion.

Harry gathered himself from the shock. "Yeah. . . how did you do in O.W.L. Potions? You must have done really well to be in here."

The chubby boy grinned shyly. He lowered his head as his face turned red. "'Outstanding.' I think it was better since Professor Snape wasn't the one who was there during the O.W.L." The other three gave him understanding looks. Neville went on, "I chose this subject because Professor McGonagall told me during Career Advicement last year that not many Aurors do well in potions these days, and that this skill is very in demand among them. So if I can pass the exam with good marks in Potions, it will increase my chances at becoming an Auror."

"Same reason here!" Ron exclaimed, then took a seat next to Neville.

Harry smiled and adjusted his glasses. "That's what McGonagall told me also. She said that poisons and antidotes are essential study for Aurors. And Dumbledore advised me to take it." After he and Hermione sat down next to each other, he asked, "What about you, Hermione? Why do you want to take Potions when you are not sure if you want to be an Auror?"

"Well, although I don't know what I want to do after Hogwarts, I think Potions would be helpful for many careers."

"Why don't you become a Potions professor? Then the future students of Hogwarts won't have to suffer Snape's wrath! Do it for the sake of the students, Hermione!" Ron suggested. Neville and Harry laughed.

Hermione was about to respond, but she stopped herself when the dungeon door suddenly swung open and Snape stepped in. He ordered, "Be quiet," then he shut the door.

Rid your mind of all emotions. . . Snape told himself before saying out loud, "I am very glad. . . and certainly surprised" he cast a dirty look at Harry "that so many of you are willing to attempt the N.E.W.T. this year. You are here because you are the best among all the students."

"I expect all my N.E.W.T. students to be capable of following instructions and making the right potions." Snape glared at Neville, who tried to turn away to avoid direct eye contact. "Although I know some assignments are hard for some people to not fail," he smiled coldly at Harry, who looked back, determined not to give Snape the slightest satisfaction "I hope you can at least succeed in most of the assignments I give you."

"Let's start today's lesson. Today you will be making Perchance to Die. Who can tell me. . ." Snape slowed down when he saw Hermione raise her hand, but ignored her and continued, ". . . the use and properties of this potion?"

Hermione kept her hand in the air. Malfoy, who sat a few seats behind her, mimicked her movement and laughed with the other Slytherins. The Potions Master continued to ignore her as he looked around the room. He asked coolly, "Anyone besides Miss Granger?" Raising an eyebrow, he said, "Perchance to Die is a potion which allows people to pretend to be dead for up to five days." Hermione lowered her arm. "Those who take Perchance to Die appear to be truly dead. Their bodies stop all the activities of a living person's, which means that all their organs stop working. However, they are still alive and unharmed once they wake up. Normal people without advanced potions knowledge would believe the people are truly dead; only those who have mastered potions can detect the signs of Perchance to Die."

Snape stopped for a few seconds, letting the information sink into the student's minds before continuing, "Perchance to Die is the most difficult potion that you will be tested on in the N.E.W.T. I teach you this potion now because I know it will take at least one year for you to master it completely. We will continue to practice making it throughout this year and the next. The more precise you are, the longer the potion will have an effect. You should be fine if you follow the instructions well. But be careful, because if you make the slightest misstep, you may make a deadly poison instead that will truly kill people."

With a wave of his wand, the store cupboard opened itself up. "Start. You have the entire two class periods."

Just like on the first day of class last year before the O.W.L.'s, Snape had given out the most horrible potion for them to make. Harry grunted when he looked at the instructions in the book. This potion required them not only to add the ingredients in the exact order and quantities, but to change the temperature of the fire and the pressure of the air greatly at least five times before and after adding certain ingredients. They would also have to stir the potion clockwise, counterclockwise, stop stirring, counterclockwise, clockwise. . . No wonder Snape gave them the entire double Potions period to work on this.

"After the third step, your potion should look very sticky and black," Snape said as he walked around to check on the students' progress. He stopped at Neville's cauldron for a few seconds. Neville, who stopped breathing the moment he saw Snape approached, froze between his stirs. He looked as if he was trying hard to stay calm, but his fingers and hands kept shaking. His face turned pale and his lips moved in an attempt to remember the counts of the stir. Meanwhile, his potion started to turn a shade of green.

Upon seeing Neville's face, Hermione whispered, "Keep stirring. You are on the second set of the counter clockwise stir."

"Miss Granger, please do not help Mr. Longbottom, and mind your own business." Snape continued to glare at Neville, who had finally continued the procedure, although the potion looked a bit off color and emitted a funny smell.

Snape hissed slightly before he continued to inspect the other students. Nearly all of them couldn't get the potions right, save of course for Hermione. He continued to watch until he said, before the last fifteen minutes of class, "By now you should be finishing the final step, and your potion should look greenish and thin. After you are done, put them in the bottles so I can grade them."

Most people were finished five minutes before class ended. However, Neville, whose book was splashed by some of the potion, couldn't read the last line of the instructions. He cocked his head to ask Hermione and Ron, but, unfortunately, caught Snape's attention.

"Mr. Longbottom! How can you expect to live outside in this world alone if you continue to rely on others?"

Neville opened his mouth, trying to explain to Snape that he couldn't read the rest of the instructions, but his throat went dry. As if he'd read Neville's mind, Snape said "Evanesco," and the potion drops on the book vanished. Then, he snapped, "A pity you can't try to solve your problems!"

Everyone stopped their cleaning and turned their attentions on Snape and Neville. They gulped at Snape's anger, except for Harry, who felt he was very unjust and stared at him with absolute loathing. Although Neville was clumsy, nobody except Hermione had successfully made the potion correctly. His own potion was no better than Neville's. However, Neville was the one who was being yelled at.

Neville lowered his head while Snape went on. "Wake up, Mr. Longbottom! Don't tell me that you expect your grandmother to live forever to take care of you. You are very fortunate now that you have her, but what about when she dies? What will you do then?"

"My gran. . . she isn't going to die. . ." Neville whispered. "And I still have my parents. Although they are at St. Mungo's, I know that they will. . . "

Snape cut him short before he finished his sentence, "You are really foolish enough to believe that your parents still have a chance of recovery? They have gone insane! And they will stay that way forever! Do you need me to spell it out for you?"

Neville's fists clenched tight as his anger rose. "Don't you talk about my parents this way. . ."

Ignoring Neville's protest, Snape sneered and said, "Ten points from Gryffindor for talking back to a professor. Another ten points from Gryffindor and one week of detentions because you are being too ignorant to accept the truth! I hope you've learned your lesson, Mr. Longbottom."

"Snape! You can't insult Neville's parents and punish him afterward!" said Harry loudly. His temper had reached the boiling point after listening to Snape's speech.

"That is 'Professor' Snape! Ten points from Gryffindor for your insolence, Potter! And I do not need you to tell me how to teach."

"But, Professor Snape," Dean said, "you can't mean that Neville's parents are totally hopeless. . . Surely St. Mungo's can treat them; it will only take some time." He looked uncertainly around the room to see the reactions from other students.

Hermione said, "Yes, Professor Snape. I know that they had suffered the Cruciatus Curse, but. . ."

"Don't you get it? The Longbottoms were tortured by the Dark Lord's servants; it won't be a surprise that they went crazy forever!" Malfoy smirked.

The Potions Master answered coldly, "People who go insane under long period of Cruciatus Curse are put into St. Mungo's permanently, and I know that none of them will ever get out."

"How can you be so sure?" Harry asked angrily, but was confused when he caught a glimpse of sorrow in the Potions Master's eyes.

None of them noticed that Neville's potion was still heating on the fire. Bubbles appeared on the surface and red vapor rose from the cauldron. Snape, who caught the smell of the burning potion, quickly yelled, "Take cover!" The students didn't know exactly what was going on, but seeing the dreadful look on their teacher's face and hearing the forceful command from his lips, they did as they were told, except for Neville, who didn't have enough time because he was the closest to the cauldron. The next thing they knew, the cauldron exploded and the potion spread all over the classroom.

Snape did the only thing his instinct told him; he used his body to block the spray of burning potion and broken cauldron pieces from Neville, who stood there, shaking and dumbfounded. Silently gritting his teeth as pain shot through his back, he held Neville tightly and tried to make sure the boy didn't get hurt.

After the explosion was over, Snape continued to hold Neville for a while longer, until his legs gave away and he collapsed to the floor. He felt like his body was ripping apart from the agony, but he was determined to mask the pain on his face in front of the students.

Everyone immediately rushed forward. They were horrified by the sight of their professor, who was lying on his stomach on the floor, covered with exploded potion. His robes were cut open in many places. Fresh blood flooded from the shards of cauldron that had punctured his back, staining the robes and the floor. His face started to turn paler than it usually was; his mouth had tightened to a deep slit and his eyebrows almost met in the middle. His body was rigid with the effort to breathe with as little motion as possible. It was obvious that some pieces had penetrated the skin and cut arteries; maybe some were even deep enough that damaged the internal organs.

"I will go find help. You take care of the Professor," said Malfoy to the other Slytherins, who were still in shock. His usual smug expression was replaced by one of concern. He ran outside to fetch other teachers.

Snape called weakly, "Lon. . . Longbottom?" His eyes were unfocused.

Neville kneeled down next to Snape. Tears started to fall down his cheeks. Snape was relieved to see Neville was fine.

Harry took out his wand and called, "Evanesco," removing the potion from Snape's body and stopping further damage. He was about to use the Reparo spell to repair the cauldron, but Hermione stayed his hand: "No, Harry! Many of the pieces are still in him; it will increase his bleeding if they aren't removed gently."

Pansy Parkinson pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to one of the largest cuts on Snape's body. She yelled at the others, "Why are you all standing there? Apply pressure on the wounds that don't have shards under the skin!

"But shouldn't we wait for Madam Pomfrey. . ." Hermione said, but was interrupted by Pansy.

"He will bleed to death if he continues to lose more blood!" Pansy shook her head and muttered something. "Accio bandages!" She turned back to Snape. "Here Blaise, hold up the Professor's arm for me," she told Blaise Zabini, and wrapped up a cut on Snape's forearm that seemed to be free from shards.

Snape finally gave a groan, as another waves of ever-increasing pain flared through his body. His vision became more blurry with every second, and the cries from the students more distant. He could no longer sense anything except for the burning of his wounds. Finally, he gave up on fighting the darkness and gratefully let it devour his consciousness.

Seeing Snape closed his eyes, Harry's heart tightened with fear. "Professor!" he cried out, screaming in his mind, Somebody please help him! His prayer was answered when footsteps approached.

"Severus!" The students parted for Madame Pompfrey, who was followed by Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. All of them gasped at the sight of Snape's injuries. Pompfrey whispered, "Accio stretcher." They gently placed the motionless body on the stretcher and raced to the Hospital Wing. The students watched as Professor Snape was carried away. Many of them could not control the emotion as they were still in shock and were threatening to burst out from their hearts. They wondered if their Potions Master was going to be all right.

Seeing his most hated person in such a condition, Harry couldn't find the slightest desire for Snape to be dead. . . he wasn't sure if he hated Snape so much after all. . .